The Gift, from Mike's Perspective
by Kidphd
Summary: How do Mike and Jill deal with the hard aspects of being a cop? Told from Mike's perspective. Make sure you read the companion to this one.


I came in as quietly as I could and walked to the door of our bedroom. It had been a hellacious night. I stood in the doorway and just watched Jill sleep. She said she didn't sleep well if I wasn't home. I felt the same way when she worked the night shift. It helped settle me a little tonight to see her, peaceful, in our bed; something normal out of a really crappy day.

This last shift had been horrible; a trifecta of tragedies. It started with a car accident. A drunk crossed over into oncoming traffic. The driver and a passenger in the other car didn't stand a chance. He had killed a young father and his newborn son. He and his wife were taking him home from the hospital. His wife had a broken leg, a broken heart, and a broken life now, thanks to one man's selfish, careless choice. When I arrived on scene, I could hear the new mother calling for help. She was clutching her dead husband's arm, trying to wake him, and crying for someone to check on her baby. I had to tell her they were both gone while my partner rounded up the other driver who was stumbling around, asking if anyone had a drink. How is she ever going to come back from this? Will this change the drunk's choices or will he continue this self-destructive path? I shook my head and headed into the bathroom. Maybe a shower would help.

I shed my clothes and stepped under the spray. I thought of the second call of the night. It was to the Wohlstein's jewelry store. Jill and I knew the Wohlsteins, a lovely Jewish Hungarian couple. They'd survived one of Hitler's concentration camps, married and come to America to start a life together. They'd raised a family and had this successful jewelry store. I'd taken Jill there a few times and she and Mr. Wohlstein had really hit it off. She was so sweet with him. He helped me pick out two anniversary presents for Jill, a ring of his own design and a bracelet that she loved.

He had stayed late tonight after closing up and that's when someone broke in. The person cleared out the place, including the safe. We found Mr. Wohlstein in the back; one shot to the head. I had to go to his house and tell his bride of 30 years that she was a widow now. It broke my heart, the way she wept for him. I would have to tell Jill, too, but not tonight.

The shower was now cold but I didn't feel any better. I needed to be with Jill. To be near her. To be comforted by her. I couldn't carry all that had happened today on my own. Even so, I still feel selfish, sharing these burdens from work with Jill. I used to try to keep these things from her but she let me know in no uncertain terms that she didn't want it to be like that between us. She said she didn't need me to protect her from the hard realities of my job. She wanted us to share everything

That thought did make me smile. Anyone might look at Jill and see this slight, incredibly beautiful woman and think she's a light weight but I know better. She's one of the strongest people I know. She has to be to be a cop's wife. When I thought I was protecting her by not burdening her with the hard pieces of my job she made me see that it was a gift to be vulnerable with her. To let her know that I needed her. Not need her? She's everything to me.

I stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and dressed for bed. As I brushed my teeth, I thought about the last call of the night. I knew it couldn't be good when I heard the address, one I was very familiar with. For the last 6 months, I'd been to this apartment 4 times. Either the woman called or one of her neighbors. And every time I showed up, she'd try to brush it off and say she fell or that her boyfriend didn't mean it or he promised it would never happen again. She'd stand there, with the imprint of his hand still fresh on her face and a bloody lip, and say she didn't want to press charges. She didn't need any help.

I asked her if he ever hurt her son, just a little guy, only 6 months old. She actually got mad at me when I asked, saying "what kind of mother do you think I am? Do you think I'd let him hurt my baby?". Yeah, I did. So I contacted Child Protective Services and reported her but they said there wasn't enough evidence to pursue the case.

Well, tonight, she was that kind of mother. When my partner and I arrived, she was cycling back and forth between crying and laughing. Clearly, she and her boyfriend were high or drunk or both. Initially, she tried to keep us out but when we got inside, I saw him. He was so little, lying in a crumpled heap at the foot of the stairs. The boyfriend said the baby had tried to crawl down the stairs and fell. I went to the boy and felt for a pulse, even though I knew by his position that he'd broken his neck. I also knew 6 month olds weren't crawling yet. This was murder. I admit that I lost it then. If my partner hadn't been there to pull me off the boyfriend, I'm not sure what I would have done. That was the last straw for me in a horrible day. I couldn't finish the shift fast enough.

I turned out the light in the bathroom and slipped into bed, so wound up that I was afraid to reach for Jill, afraid that I'd crush her. She reached for me though. She laid her head on my shoulder and began stroking my arm. I just stared straight up at the ceiling, trying hard to hold it together. I heard her whisper "thank you for coming home to me" and I swallowed hard. She moved so that she was looking at me and stroked my face and said the words that I loved to hear from her "I love you…very much." I was so glad she did and I told her so. I finally looked at her and wondered at this woman who loved me so well. What had I done to deserve her, to come home to her every night? Terry and Willie often commented on how amazing Jill was but they didn't know even a small part of it. They weren't the focus of this incredible woman's attention and love.

She asked if everyone was okay. It wasn't just me she worried about. It was Terry and Willie and even Lt. Riker. He had a soft spot for her and I think she saw him as a father figure. I nodded yes and then she asked "are you okay?". How do I respond to that question? No? Not by a long shot? I've just had the worst shift of my short career and one that I hope to never repeat? Our friend, Mr. Wohlstein is dead and his sweet wife is a widow? I couldn't say those things yet so I said what I needed, "I need to hold you right now".

She moved to lay on top of me and I held her tight. She smelled so good. Was it vanilla? Lilac? I haven't figured it out her unique scent yet but I inhaled deeply, taking her in and settling myself with the comforting weight of her on my chest. She held on tight, whispering in my ear and I shut out all thoughts of the previous 12 hours, focusing only on the feel of her. We called this my "security blanket" and she was right. I felt grounded and loved.

I wanted more; though just what, I wasn't sure. I shifted my weight and easily flipped so that she was on her back and I was on top. I can't explain what it does for me to see her look at me with such love. It swells my heart and I think it might break from it. I kissed her then, with all that I had. I needed to possess her soul, this goodness that would wash away what water couldn't touch. And she opened herself to me, dueling and inviting and I drank her in. Just as quickly as it began, it ended. She was enough. This was enough. To love her and be loved her. I kissed her softly then. Gentle kisses that settled us both. I looked into her deep brown eyes that looked deep into my soul and said "I love you…so much". Then I moved to lay my head on her soft breast, wanting to hear her heart beat for me. She took my hand and softly kissed the palm before placing it on her cheek. Then she placed it on her breast. This small, gentle, loving, strong, incredible woman loved me and gave me the opportunity to share my burden. She said it was a gift I gave her but I knew that I was the one who got the best gift.


End file.
